At just 29 years old, I am a mother to two precious children who are my entire world. Every decision I make, every breath I take, is rooted in loving and protecting them. But my life—and my understanding of how fragile it all can be—changed forever in January of 2023.
By: Gabrelle Morrison, West Liberty KY
33
From Heartbreak to Purpose: One Young Mother’s Wake-Up Call
My name is Gabrielle Morrison. I’m 29 years young, and I am the mother of two precious children who are my entire world. Until recently, my life looked much like that of many young families—busy, hopeful, and full of plans. I never imagined that a routine pregnancy appointment would divide my life into a before and an after.
In January of 2023, I was pregnant with my third child when I went to what I expected would be a normal OB appointment. Instead, I was told there was no longer a heartbeat. I went home in shock, carrying a grief that felt too heavy to comprehend. I didn’t truly believe my baby was gone. I existed in a space between disbelief and despair, trying to care for my children while my mind refused to accept what my heart already knew.
Three days later, the emotional weight became physical. I experienced crushing chest pain, dizziness, and overwhelming fear and rushed to the emergency room, convinced I was having a heart attack. Doctors later explained that what I experienced was a panic attack caused by profound trauma. But while the scans showed no cardiac distress, they revealed something else entirely: a mass in my lung
Continued o n page 38 ...
What followed were months of uncertainty. I endured hospital stays, extensive testing, multiple rounds of antibiotics, and two biopsies. Each test brought more questions than answers. Seven months after that emergency room visit, at just 27 years old, I received a diagnosis that felt impossible for someone my age: Invasive Mucinous Adenocarcinoma. Lung cancer.
Biomarker testing followed, searching for a genetic explanation that might explain why a young, otherwise healthy woman who had never smoked would develop lung cancer. The results showed no driving mutations. No clear cause. No explanation that made sense. I was left with a question as old as time: why?
That question refused to let me rest. If it wasn’t genetic and it wasn’t smoking, then something else had to explain it. That question catapulted me into research. Like many patients, when medicine reached its limits, I began searching for answers on my own. That is when I discovered radon.
Before my diagnosis, I had never heard of radon gas. I didn’t know it was radioactive. I didn’t know it was invisible, odorless, and impossible to detect without testing. I didn’t know it was the second-leading cause of lung cancer overall and the leading cause among people who have never smoked.
I learned that radon forms naturally from the breakdown of uranium in soil and rock and can seep into homes through foundation cracks, crawl spaces, sump pumps, and other openings. I learned that long-term exposure can damage lung tissue and significantly increase cancer risk. Most unsettling of all, I learned how common it is.
I have always lived in single-family homes. Like many people, I assumed that if there were a serious environmental risk in my home, someone would have told me. At the time of my diagnosis, I did not have a radon reading because I was in the process of moving into a new home and didn’t yet know radon testing was something I should do. I never tested the home I lived in before my diagnosis. That unknown still haunts me.
Today, I use a continuous radon monitor in my home. The highest level I have seen is 8.9 pCi/L—more than twice the EPA action level. I do not currently have a mitigation system installed, but I now have something I didn’t have before: awareness.
I may never know with certainty what caused my cancer. But I do know that radon is a known carcinogen, that it is present in countless homes, and that most people—including me, once—have no idea they are being exposed until it is too late.
Radon does not announce itself. It does not make your home smell different or feel unsafe. It does not care how old you are, whether you smoke, or how healthy you appear. It accumulates silently over time. Testing is the only way to know.
I share my story because awareness saves lives. If even one person tests their home, asks questions, or takes steps to reduce exposure after reading this, then my voice has done what it was meant to do.
I once asked why. Now I ask something else: Who can I help protect next?
FEATURE ARTICLE